Outdoor Odysseys

Sun, rain and Irish explorations: Journeys along the Dingle Way and more

With a few matters to address in Ireland and a wish to steer clear of the Jubilee celebrations, I found sufficient motivation for embarking on another journey to the Emerald Isle. After the success of a previous stay in Limerick, I fancied the prospect of basing myself in Killarney for a change. However, the timing included the Whit Weekend Bank Holiday in Ireland, which I blame for my encountering exorbitant accommodation costs. My trip later took me to Killarney for a day outing, when I found the real reason for the extortionate costs: Bikerfest was in town and had attracted a huge following.

Meanwhile, I had settled on Tralee as my base. While that put the Dingle Peninsula on my doorstep, there was another trip to West Limerick to check on things there. In the background, there were things to progress to which an inclement Thursday allotted some time after a morning stroll in the greyness. Friday started out grey too, so that allowed one or more phone calls to be made. This was not the full mix of weather, for eastward bands of rain blighted the bank holiday weekend, making decisions about where to go that bit more difficult.

Serendipity on the Kerry Camino

It took until Wednesday for any sunshine to successfully break through the cloud cover, too; this was a sojourn that needed patience and perseverance for any photographic rewards to be savoured. As the clouds broke overhead, I spent some time around Tralee’s town park, using any photographic opportunities that arose. That afternoon, I followed the trail of the Dingle Way out of the town for what, I thought, was an out and back hike.

While following the towpath of the ship canal was an option, I kept more closely to what the map showed to be the route of the long-distance trail, which ended up with my walking by the side of the N86 as far as Blennerville, with its iconic windmill in view all the while. Once through the village, I ended up leaving the trail for a circular foray into the foothills of the Slieve Mish Mountains. Unlike my time in Limerick, I was shod for the travel over rougher ground. The Berghaus boots may have been intended for lighter wear, yet they acquitted themselves well in the circumstances.

On returning to the Dingle Way, also known as the Kerry Camino between Tralee and Dingle via Annascaul, I still had intentions of circling back to Tralee. However, the splendour of the scenery in the sunshine continued to lure me along until I made a spur of the moment decision to continue to Camp; the availability of a decent bus service between Tralee and Dingle was what decided me as much as what was delighting me.

Views across Tralee Bay and inland towards Stack’s Mountains and Glanaruddery Mountains drew my eyes away from where I was. Even so, it was looking back along the slopes of the Slieve Mish Mountains that really held my attention. However, any peering into the dramatic setting of Baurtregaum was curtailed by the need to reach Camp. In the end, there was no hefty time constraint, so I could have lingered and gazed for a while. Even with the emotional recollection of hurrying by, I still ended up with more images than the sense of rush would have suggested. That has calmed things for me.

Thus, any regrets regarding a rude rapidity of my passage have faded; advancing clouds were calling time on any dawdling anyway. The sunshine was receding and I on the most rugged stretch of the path. There was height gain too to go with any western views that made one wonder about the possibility of glimpsing Brandon and its neighbouring hills.

Any ascent came before a gradual descent on a trail disinclined to show me my eventual destination; having to go up while knowing that you need to go down needs some forbearance. That was not all, for patience under grey skies was the order of the moment before I reached the N86 again. Wearying limbs carried me into Camp, where refreshments were obtained in advance of awaiting the bus back to Tralee. While there had been some serendipity regarding the hike that I had completed, much felt magnificent on what was my deepest incursion into Irish hill country at that time.

An Impromptu Ventry Circuit

In advance of an onslaught of rain on Thursday, I pottered around Tralee and went out along its ship canal, an entity that had been unknown to me. The skies were overcast yet dry, so I went as far as I could go before the shoreline halted me. Then, I made my way back to Tralee via lanes to reach cover before any inclement weather arrived. During the stroll, I spotted signs for the North Kerry Way, a trail that had its uses only days later.

With all obligations met, I had Friday afternoon to myself. Even with overcast skies, I still went to Dingle. Once there, I had the gift of well broken cloud cover that allowed long spells of sunshine. Making use of that situation, I followed the Dingle Way westward. Traffic on the R559 was such that I was happy to leave it for a far quieter minor road. As I followed that, views towards an unclouded Brandon were a feast for one’s eyes, even if an uncooperative foreground and occasionality of the sunshine made for challenging photographic composition.

Tarmac was left after me for a time on the way to the route of Siúlóid Cholmáin, a looped walk that passes Cill Cholmáin and Rathinane Castle. The former is the ruins of an Early Christian Monastery founded by Saint Colmán, and the latter is a fifteenth-century castle built by the Fitzgerald family, perched in a ring fort. As with many of these things, I have little recollection of the monastic ruins and the castle was on private, so I only could view it from a distance.

All this took me back on tarmac again yet in pleasing surroundings on quiet back roads. Others were out in the sunshine too, so there was at least one cheery greeting coming in my direction. Leaving the true route of the circuit, I ventured onto Ventry beach. Looking ahead brought me eyes to a gap where I might have been seeing Brandon or one of its neighbours. Looking right brought my gaze across Dingle towards the northern shore of the Iveragh peninsula and smaller landmasses lay further west. My contention is that I was seeing the distant Skelligs on a clear day.

Once off the large expanse of sand with its own lifeguard on duty, I was hailed by cheeky youngsters as “Bandito” because of the hat that I was wearing to keep off the sun. All that could be done was to laugh at their impetuousness and carry on; little harm was being done. Returning inland involved an ascent with ever expanding views before I returned to the Dingle Way to reprise the way back to Dingle.

A piece of cartographic fiction caused me to vary the route while on a false errand. That also brought me past barking dogs, an ever intrusive experience in the Irish countryside. On attempting to find it on private land and coming to an impassable obstruction, I had to give up on Cosán na Naomh and traipse tarmac all the way back to Dingle after adding more distance to my return route. Nevertheless, the exercise offered me more views of a by now clouded Brandon. The cost was something of a dash to make the penultimate bus of the day from Dingle to Tralee. Cloudier skies meant that I could do so without distraction.

An earlier departure from Tralee might have allowed for a longer circuit or a visit to Dunquin, familiar to many an Irish student of the life of Peig Sayers. A lower level circuit of Sliabh an Iolair (Eagle Mountain, in English) would have its appeal. Saying that, what I sampled gave plenty of satisfaction, so I do not feel short-changed in any way at all. Given the weather prospects of the weekend to come, it was best to snatch any opportunity with both hands.

A Morning’s Meander

In the words of a local shopworker, Saturday evening turned out nasty. Heavy rain had arrived, not from the west as most would expect, but from the east. If I had known that it take until around 18:00 to do this, I might have made more of the day. Going on a day trip to Killarney would have been a possibility.

Thinking that I only had the morning, I made use of the Greenway to see how far I would get to Fenit. The answer was: not very far. Curiosity led me onto the R551 to see how things looked and works to convert the old railway remained in progress. Given how busy the road was, that possibly was a case when inquisitiveness was best left aside, especially when I inadvertently walked in front of an oncoming car, making it stop, yet without any harm being caused to anyone. The Greenway has been opened since then, and surely must be a boon for off-road recreation, and bus services have been enhanced too.

Suitably chastened and disabused of the idea of going to Fenit, I made my way on to the North Kerry Way near Spa, using lanes that were busier than was ideal. Thankfully, things were quieter after I had passed the entrance to the golf club. Once off the road at Spa, things were better again. This was following up on an idea that came my way on Thursday morning.

The morning was bright with some hazy sunshine too, which was more than could be expected. Westward views along the Dingle peninsula were there to be savoured on a trail that shadowed a stone shoreline. Eventually, I would follow the towpath of the ship canal, where an unexpected inconvenience intruded on my day: the local rowing club’s training session. One of their number was using a bike to follow their progress, stopping rather too often for my liking. Constant leap-frogging is not the most restful.

When I got to Tralee’s town park, the heat of the day was there to be felt. The sunshine was strong, and I attended to some shopping needs that I had. It felt rude to go indoors when it was not inclement outside, yet I possibly felt the need to do just that after a morning of walking. This was a period when it looked as if Met Éireann was struggling to predict what was coming to a greater level of precision.

Between Crowds and Clouds

Figuring out what to do on Sunday became a challenge because of the lack of apparent certainty. Seeing that Killarney could be drier was enough for me to give the place a go. Until the previous encounter in April, expectations were not high. The weather information did no better than that.

If I had known that Bikerfest was there, Killarney may not have been an option at all. All too often, I arrive somewhere not knowing that an event is happening there. Fort William, Dolgellau and Bath all fall into this category, though there were ample workarounds in those cases. Visiting a crowded location soon after the zenith of a global pandemic was not my intention, not that the timing bothered many around there. Those attending Bikerfest simply behaved as if there were never a pandemic at all, not a situation that I found comfortable.

On the way back to Muckross, vehicles were parked everywhere. The impression was that Killarney was overwhelmed and any management of roadside verges for wildlife went by the wayside. Motorcycle engines sounded everywhere, with many going towards Moll’s Gap and powering up throaty engines on the way. It is an utterly alien situation for a quietude seeker to meet.

Thankfully, Muckross was blissful in comparison, The racket and the crowds were distant there, gifting the much-needed respite. The day remained overcast with low clouds on the hills. Even so, I continued to the top of Torc Mountain, passing Torc Waterfall on the way. Even with poor visibility at the top, the well-made path made it straightforward to get there. It was best not to move around too much on the summit, so I made my descent again with ideas planted in my mind for later. One was revisiting Torc Mountain in clearer conditions, and another was following the Kerry Way from Kenmare back to Killarney. An August incursion would make use of those prospects.

The way back to Killarney again tried me until I escaped through Maurice O’Donoghue Memorial Park to less crowded surroundings. From there, I made my way into Knockreer Park in the ever dampening air. The attendant lack of people was a balm to the soul, regardless. Passing the cathedral, I made for the train station, where a wetting accompanied a wait for the next train to a much wetter Tralee.

A Walk in Manannan’s Mist

After being a little unnerved around Killarney, I fancied a quieter day in the Kerry countryside. Prompted either a perhaps overoptimistic forecast or an overly hopeful self, I set off for Dingle for a hike to Annascaul. While going from Camp to Annascaul was a possibility too, I scotched that in light of the likely conditions. The sights from the bus ride along the N86, which shadows the route of the Dingle way, validated my reasoning: the cloud base was too low.

On that Bank Holiday Monday, Dingle was blissfully quiet as I set to attend to a few needs in advance of setting off in the direction of the Connor Pass. It was another section of the Dingle Way that I was using as I did this. A little route was needed to get going, and the air grew damper as I gained height. Visibility was another matter; even with being near the aforementioned pass, I could not see it. Even so, I ventured off the long distance trail in its direction, only for the wetting from damp vegetation to send me back. Some things are best left for days with better weather.

In time, the air was to get drier. That was not before whimsical thoughts emerged regarding Manannan’s mythical nightly shower in the Dingle mountains and his leisurely morning routine. Losing some height on the way to Lispole helped with the dryness, though care was needed with navigation. At one point, I nearly followed a mucky farm roadway before seeing sense and turning back to find the correct route. Any spatters would need attention later.

If it were not for boreens, there would have been less pleasure on this day of walking; it appears to me that they are an Irish speciality for long distance walking, a unique feature that I have not met elsewhere. All was quiet as I peered towards the southern shore of the peninsula. It even looked as if there might be some brightness, though any that came only was fleeting. Kilmurry Castle beckoned to me as a landmark, and I was to tarry around there for a while. Then, gazing west showed that my decision to go east was not ideal for enjoying sunshine. Going to Ventry or Dunquin might have made a better option if bus times facilitated such designs.

On the way from Kilmurry to Annascaul, views of the hilly spine of the Dingle peninsula were vastly more plentiful than the amount of sunshine that I was getting, though there was some. Some of the houses that I passed were unoccupied and falling into nature’s embrace, making me wonder if anyone might use them as a starting point for a restoration project. The present cost of living clearly limits that kind of thing, though.

Road travel took me into Annascaul where I was greeted by the sight of the South Pole, the pub operated by Tom Crean after his Antarctic adventuring came to an end. Finding the bus stop was the next task before topping up on refreshments. Before the vigil for the next bus could commence in the rain, various signs were perused to learn some history of the place, such as the fate of its Church of Ireland place of worship. If my memory is not confabulating again, others highlighted walking possibilities in the area, some featuring nearby Lough Anscaul. There is more than the Dingle Way around here.

An Underestimated Gateway to Kerry’s Hills

In summary, Tralee has much to offer as a hill wandering base. While it may be overshadowed by the delights of nearby Killarney and is a working county town, the proximity of the Dingle peninsula is in its favour. Public transport options are workable too if you do not want to use a car. For section walking of the Dingle Way, using your transport becomes much more awkward anyway.

As in my case, the weather may be unpredictable, yet it is possible to work around that. When the sun shines, all looks all the more magnificent when you realise what a gift that is. While some may be focussed on climbing Brandon, a challenge that commands competence with navigation to avoid steep ground in low visibility, there is much else that is more accessible. Even with much gained, there are sufficient excuses that prompt my return. Sometimes, anywhere that is overshadowed can be more valuable than what is overshadowing it.

Travel Arrangements

This multi-city journey through Ireland commenced with a Ryanair flight from Manchester Airport to Dublin, an opportunity to see how restrictions had been eased even further, albeit with added trepidation. Any chaos that affected outbound flights from Dublin the previous weekend did not impact me at all, though they were a sign that service restoration was not keeping pace with increasing demand. Thus, I could board Dublin Express service 782 to get to Dublin’s Heuston station, where I boarded an Iarnród Éireann train service to Tralee, transferring at Mallow station, as planned.

Regional transportation was facilitated by Bus Éireann, using their service 275 for connections between Camp, Tralee, and Dingle. For the Killarney day trip, I employed Bus Éireann’s Expressway service 40, returning via rail transport. The return from Tralee comprised a combination of Iarnród Éireann and Bus Éireann services from Limerick to Cork Airport, where I continued the journey with a Ryanair flight back to Manchester, followed by a train journey to Macclesfield, reversing my outbound mode of travel.

Unleashed yet reassociated

Every time that there has been a royal jubilee while I have lived in the U.K., I have not been in England for it. The chance of a double bank holiday weekend is enough to make me think of getting away from home for a while. 2002 saw me spending time in Edinburgh, while 2012 saw me heading to Pitlochry and Highland Perthshire. While such pageantry has never been my thing, it really is not the case these days after political events during the past ten years.

That set the scene for a real escape from Britain, so I ended up in Ireland. There was the added motivation of my needing to do a few things over there as well. My base this time around may have been Tralee, but Killarney was in my sights after a cloudy afternoon in April downed my spirits after a sunny morning. In hindsight, it was just as well that I had not stayed there as the place was thronged with bikers attending BikerFest, but that was a later discovery.

After a day spent meeting people in West Limerick, there was time for exploring newer horizons before attending to necessary matters. With the Dingle peninsula on Tralee’s doorstep, that perhaps was unavoidable, and a sunny afternoon saw me lured along the Dingle Way as far as Camp before returning again by bus. Before all that, some morning sunshine brightened up the town’s park, so some camera work ensued after days of sunshine struggling through heavy cloud cover. The windmill at Blennerville was another sight to savour, as I discovered that Tralee has a ship canal, even if it only sees use for leisure pursuits these days. When I finally entered hill country, I was still decided on an out and back walk, but the glorious afternoon lighting of the scenery was enough to disabuse me of such a notion. It proved not to be a move to regret.

The next day came cloudy with afternoon rain, yet I still got as far as walking along the ship canal towpath before the rain came. Business phone calls and other plotting occupied me while the weather was inclement, and the following morning needed some more of the same before the advent of afternoon sunshine drew me to Dingle. From there, I was drawn out on a circuit using parts of the Dingle Way and Siúlóid Cholmáin as I ventured as far as Ventry and back.

It made me cast my mind back to another royal occasion when my aunt and late mother ventured as far as Dingle on what was a cloudy day and the road felt as if it would keep rising forever. My brother was painting the kitchen at home, with the wedding of Charles and Diana on television. Dingle did not seem to impress my mother, but it possibly was more of a fishing port back then. The mix of coastline, sandy beaches and mountain scenery were more to her liking and I do seem to recall the mention of Inch, while I wonder what they might have made of Ventry if they had got that far.

The beach there is large with a lifeguard on duty, but my sights really were on hills like Brandon and what lay across Dingle Bay. Being able to glimpse the Skelligs in the distance was an added bonus. Mapping make-believe waylaid me on the way back to Dingle, yet I made the bus back to Tralee with minutes to spare after a glorious afternoon.

The Irish June bank holiday weekend was not to be blessed with sunny weather, so Saturday saw me embarking on a circuit near Tralee. Though still under construction, the completed part of the Tralee to Fenit Greenway got me started. Being a bit sleepy and not realising that I was crossing the busy road to Ballyheigue, Ardfert and other parts of North Kerry got nearer to a moving car than I would have liked. Thankfully, they paused to let the distracted wanderer pass.

Curiosity about building progress led me along that road to see what was happening to the Greenway before I retreated to quieter roads near silage making and golfing. Leaving those near Spa, I then followed the coast using the North Kerry Way until I reached the ship canal again. Breaks in cloud cover persisted to allow some sun before that eventually was lost. A local rowing club was out training in the canal with an observer on a bicycle that was not an aid to uninhibited strolling before the rowers really got moving. Then, it was back into Tralee where dry weather and some sunny persisted later into the afternoon. One might have considered that the weather forecast was wrong, but it sadly was not. We were facing into what might be called a “fine dirty” or “nasty” evening in rural Irish parlance.

Oddly, the wet weather was coming from the east and not the west, so it became challenging to figure out drier places to be for the last two full days of the trip. The penultimate of these took me to Killarney where I reached the top of Torc Mountain, where some low cloud cover obstructed the views and I started to consider the possibility of walking from Kenmare to Killarney along the Kerry way, but that needed to wait. The location that I reached still was an oasis of calm compared to Killarney town itself since there was a crowd of people in the place attending the aforementioned BikerFest. Muckross was similarly unaffected, even if the throaty rumble of bike engines was to be heard as their riders went towards Moll’s Gap. Some seem so fascinated by the idea of filling quiet places with a racket that others like me wonder at them, since we so value the calm. Seeking that led me away from Muckross Road to reach Knockreer Park on the way to the town’s train station. The rain finally caught up with me at this point, but I had snatched drier interludes from a day that did not promise much.

The following day was similarly troubled, yet I headed to Dingle, reputed as one of the wettest places in Ireland. What was to get me wet on the way to Annascaul was a fine mist. Even so, I might have been tempted to make for the Conor Pass but for the lack of any view. Thankfully, the day dried with the passage of time, but not before my imagination conjured up images of Manannan mac Lir enjoying a late lie-in on his Kerry mountain shower bed. While sunshine weakly broke through at times, the greyness prevailed while I noted that boreen walking possibly is unique to Ireland on a day when such whimsical thoughts kept entering my mind. The dry weather was lost while I awaited a bus in Annascaul, one time home to Antarctic explorer Tom Crean, but I remained glad that I had not tried walking from there to Camp. The scenery may have been more majestic, but it really needs to be seen in better weather. Such are ideas for future visits.